The Moment Between
by Xekstrin
Summary: Between that point of impact and this point where I gasp and look up at the disturbed gray skies, shocked that I am still alive, this is what I thought.


**"Sometimes when you're falling you can't wait to hit the ground. Sure you made a mistake but it's not too late to turn around."**

**-from "Tomorrow", written myself.**

Shit's been going down. I just got back from vacation and my great grandfather dies. It's not fun. So I wrote something that took no thought process, and besides it's been on my mind for a while.

**Title:** "The Moment Between."

**Summary:** Random femslash because I like it. It probably makes no sense because it was based on a dream I had. "Between that point of impact and this point where I gasp and look up at the disturbed grey skies, shocked that I am still alive, this is what I thought."

**OoOoOo**

What do you feel in the moment of betrayal?

It's weird, but the only word I can find to describe it is a ripple. It starts from the point of impact and ripples through me. It doesn't hurt me at all, it's more like a frantic searching, rippling through me, ripping through me, tearing through my most intimate and fragile inner workings.

Then it leaves.

But before this-

Before _this_-

-Between _that _point of impact and this point where I gasp and look up at the disturbed grey skies, shocked that I am still alive-

This is what I thought:

_What if-?_

Nononono. I've never thought it before, so why now? I know it's ridiculous. _What if we were normal? _I've never... really thought about it, I mean, not in-depth dissection like I do everything else. It was always a flash, a brief image in my head more than a fleshed out fully breathing _idea_, or desire. _What if- _and then the image of some intangible essence- and then I ruthlessly pluck it like a weed from a well cultivated garden before it has chance to take root. First of all, in a society such as Atmosia, the melting pot of the free world, there's so many conflicting points of views there's no possible way everyone could agree on one fine standard that everyone should live up to in order to cling to that ideal of 'normal'. So the only thing I find that's remotely close to this ideal 'Normal' is "Average" and I quite like the fact that I'm above-average in just about everything.

So no. No normal. I do not want normal. Do _not _want. The wanting is not here.

(The epiphany, I think, was more a blow to the chest than the actual shot had been.)

I don't want to know what normal is. I want to know what peace is. I want to know- what if?

_What if my parents hadn't died? Or Aerrow's? More importantly Aerrow's, because if his old man hadn't croaked Atmosia would be safe and Cyclonia wouldn't have been on the rise in power. And then- oh my God- Oh my God- _

(I dared to dream deeper.

That- how did that- how did that manage to make my heart keen with terror? _Fuck_, I just _can't explain it_! It was horrifying, to be able to delve deeper into this impossible alternate life! It was awful! It was _wrong_! I want to scream when I think about it. Sometimes I do.

But only when Aerrow can't hear me.)

_I dare to dream deeper. What if the former Cyclonis never declared war? I would be home right now. And I would never have to do what I'm doing right now, waiting to see if I would ever see the disturbed blue-grey skies again. _I would never see the woman child in front of me, lurid grin plastered across her waxy white skin, swathe of thick black hair partly covering one eye just so the other could stare at me with all it's insane intensity.

_Or maybe I would. She would be a princess from a far away land. I would read about her in the newspapers, in passing mention of course. Maybe she'd show up in a picture with her regal father, somewhere in the background, only a footnote? But I know I would notice her. I'd wonder, what's it like to be a princess? Then I would trudge to school with Aerrow and comes back home and forget about her because I was too busy obsessing about finals._

I'd never see her.

Or maybe I would.

_She arrives with her father in a mission of peace, to secure the tranquility between our two very different worlds. I stand as one among the crowds, struggling to see the girl I had read about._

The girl I read about stands in front of me still, in that moment Between the decision of living or dying.

_Would you still hold my hand and say "I got you," Lark?_

_If you did would it still be a lie?_

It's all over, that moment Between. Everything escapes me in a single breath and I a slump forward, then arch backwards with my shoulders straight and my mouth set in a firm, thin line. She stares at me in shock, mouth literally hanging open.

She knows what it means.

I know what it means.

But I guess she just can't believe what it means, so I explain it to her:

"Oblivion crystals won't work on friends. Even if they were only friends for a moment."

It's more than that, though. I could tell by the sway of her hips and the swagger of her tough talk and the way her hand brushed up against mine only to quickly dart away, making the contact even more obvious.

She loves me.

She loved me.

She looks from me to the deathly powerful crystal in her hands, the one that she just shot straight into my chest. She grips it tightly, the crazed light in her purple eyes suddenly shut off in pure, and utter, terror. I'm sure if she tries to explain that terror it would be like me trying to explain why it hurts so much to think about what could have been.

_She looks over at me, sees me right through the crowds, and smiles. Maybe a little shy_. Just like the first time, in the first life, where we sit in awkward silence on the rock, protected from the storm until we both catch each other looking at each other, and grin self-consciously.

_"I'm Lark."_

_"Piper."_

_There's something about her that makes me want to tell her everything, right then. "I like you a lot!" Of course it's not so strong at first, just a whatifmaybe? but then I know after an hour of talking I'm falling for her. Madly. Fast. Strong. I'm falling so hard I can't wait to hit the ground._

She loves me, and I-

"It's a dud..." I let loose a small, sarcastic laugh. "Master."

And in her eyes I see the purest, most frustrated anger a girl can ever see. Me- how dare I make a mockery of her? She was the player, I was the pawn. She jerked me around on a string and made me fall for her, she was not to be taken advantage of.

But I can tell right now.

She loves me.

"This isn't over, you know."

Oh yeah. I know it all right. I can tell from your face and the pulse quickening in the vein in your throat, the throat I kissed.

I tell her the truth, here in our life and the rose-tinted life in my mind, where our hands slowly slide apart until all that's touching is our fingertips and then not even that as we fall apart, driven away, taken back home to our peaceful normal lives where we cannot see each other for there is no

reason for it all.

And the answer is so irrational, so true.

_"I'll be-"_

_"-_waiting."


End file.
